


so hold your tongue and hear me out

by wearecities (falsetto)



Category: Best Song Ever - One Direction (Music Video), One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternative Universe--Ish, Awful Puns, F/M, Schmoop
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-02
Updated: 2014-04-02
Packaged: 2018-01-17 22:46:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,774
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1405324
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/falsetto/pseuds/wearecities
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It’s probably a massive mistake going back to the offices. They’d left in a storm of flying paper, broken poster boards and their middle fingers pointed at the sky except-- Well, except of course Harry of all people would leave his wallet behind.</p><p>There wasn’t much in it. Maybe $40 in cash, his black card, a few Pinkberry receipts, a scrunched up picture of Louis, Niall and himself dressed up as giant gherkins a few months ago. Replaceable things-- he hasn’t used his ID in a good few years, he can go without that for a while-- and maybe he could’ve gone without the thirty minute trip across town but there’s something pulling him back.</p><p>In fact, she’s sitting behind the front desk when the lift doors slide open.</p><p>“Hello,” Veronica says, slipping her headphones off and looking up from her computer. Harry feels his stomach flutter slightly. “Come to wreak more havoc or just make the intern cry again?”</p>
            </blockquote>





	so hold your tongue and hear me out

**Author's Note:**

> This was a prompt fill that got out of hand so here you go mysterious anon! Warnings for fumbling Harry in the face of gorgeous women, ridiculousness, awful jokes and more awful jokes. Title shamelessly stolen from Stay The Night by Zedd. All my love and cake to [Ina](http://mfeo-pt2.tumblr.com/) for reading through, cheerleading and correcting my terrible grammar. U da best.
> 
> Based around if the Best Song Ever video actually happened.

It’s probably a massive mistake going back to the offices. They’d left in a storm of flying paper, broken poster boards and their middle fingers pointed at the sky except-- Well, except of course Harry, of all people, would leave his wallet behind.

There wasn’t much in it. Maybe $40 in cash, his black card, a few Pinkberry receipts, a scrunched up picture of Louis, Niall and himself dressed up as giant gherkins a few months ago. Replaceable things-- he hasn’t used his ID in a good few years, he can go without that for a while-- and maybe he could’ve gone without the thirty minute trip across town but there’s something pulling him back.

In fact, she’s sitting behind the front desk when the lift doors slide open.

“Hello,” Veronica says, slipping her headphones off and looking up from her computer. Harry feels his stomach flutter slightly. “Come to wreak more havoc or just make the intern cry again?”

She’s twirling a strand of hair between two delicate fingers, nails painted a pale teal and she looks wholly unimpressed, glasses slipping down her nose as she looks up at Harry through long, long lashes and an arched brow. Harry feels about ten inches tall.

“Morning Veronica,” Harry starts, going for charming, the slightest hint of dimple. Veronica’s expression doesn’t budge and Harry falters, smile dropping. “So, uhm. Things got a little carried away yesterday, I’m sorry. I really am. Just-- We’re not very good at being told what to do. And, to be honest, it was a bit ridiculous and, well--” Veronica quirks an eyebrow and Harry’s mouth snaps shut. He pauses for a second. Every word he’s ever learnt has somehow slipped out of his mind. “Okay, well. I just, came back to see if you needed any help tidying. And to apologise.”

“And because you left your wallet,” Veronica continues, picking it up from her desk and waving it.

“... And because I left my wallet.” Harry nods, sheepish. He’s gone from ten inches tall to about five now. Veronica’s gorgeous and also very, very intimidating.

“Well,” Veronica pauses, sliding the wallet across the desk. “You’ve got it back now, meaning you can leave.” 

With that, she goes back to her computer. Her lips are pulled tight in concentration, there’s the faint sound of gunfire and zombie groans coming from her headphones. Harry can’t help it, leaning over the desk to get a good look.

“Is that Left 4 Dead?” he asks, he bloody hopes it’s Left 4 Dead—It’s the only zombie game he knows and that’s from watching Zayn play it on the bus. “I love Left 4 Dead.”

“No you don’t,” she deadpans, catching Harry red-handed and she makes a frustrated noise at the back of her throat when she presumably dies. It’s adorable and Harry has to lean back from the desk before he does anything. He’s not sure what, seeing as he can barely form eloquent sentences. “And now you’ve made me die. What are you doing here, Harry?”

“I _am_ sorry. Genuinely. I was maybe hoping I could make it up to everyone in some way,” Harry says. “Cover the damage? Buy a whole new office? Take Harvey and Johnny on a lads night? Well, I mean, the other boys could probably do that better. Give Marcel Liam’s number, maybe? I think Rita Ora might need a choreographer, if Leeroy’s up for that.”

The joke was a stretch, probably a bad move but Veronica’s expression finally softens a little, smile on her glossy lips.

“They’ve all taken the day off. Harvey and Johnny probably deserved what you did to be honest,” Veronica hums. “But who says _I_ wouldn’t want Liam’s number.” Harry pulls a shocked face, clutches at his chest and Veronica lets out the sweetest, nose-scrunched-up, eyes-crinkled giggle Harry’s ever heard. Maybe it was better when she was angry.

“You definitely don’t want Liam’s number. I mean, he’s nice but-- Too nice. He’ll kill you with sweetness, who wants that? He’d probably even pull your chair out for you if you went to dinner. Also those arms? Too big. How would you fit in the room when his muscles take it all up?” Harry’s rambling, he knows he is but it usually works for him. Veronica’s still smiling, at least.

“True,” Veronica considers, brushing her hair over her shoulder. “How are you going to make it up to me, then? I spent two hours trying to coax Marcel out from under a pile of garbage earlier.”

“Dinner? Lunch? Brunch? Breakfast?” Harry asks and Veronica lifts an eyebrow. “All of them in one? I’ll do more than pull your chair out, I’ll carry you the whole way. Spoon feed you. If I could blink for you, I would.”

“Dinner sounds fine,” she says after a second and Harry has to clench his fist to stop him from punching the air in victory. “I’ll blink myself, though, pull out my own chair and it’s not a date. Also, I’m paying for myself and you have to wear something with less holes in it.” Furrowing his brow, Harry looks down at his shirt. There’s a pretty big hole in the middle, his moth is poking out to say hello.

“Deal.” Harry kind of wants to shake on it, but he feels like he’s already pushing his luck. He waits for Veronica to scribble her number on a PacMan shaped post-it before he makes his way for the lift, number safely tucked into his returned wallet.

He’s just stepped in the lift when she calls out his name.

“Yeah?” he calls back, ground floor button already pressed.

“Liam already gave me his number, by the way.” She grins before sliding her headphones back on; the lift doors start to shut.

“Delete it!” Harry yells through the gap, not quick enough to stop the doors before they shut in his face.

-

Even though Harry gets teased for half the day for pining over a Zayn look-a-like-- mostly by Zayn himself who shoves balled-up socks up his t-shirt and pouts at Harry from across the room-- Dinner is lovely. 

Veronica shows up in tight, ripped jeans and leather jacket, looking like a Dystopian princess. The only holes in Harry’s clothes are the necessary ones for his limbs and Veronica smiles at him, tucking her hair behind her ear. 

When she’s not killing zombies and scaring the absolute shite out of Harry, Veronica is sweet, smart, funny and a complete and utter geek, but still infinitely cooler than Harry will be. He doesn’t pull her chair out for her but he lets her try his Pollo Funghi and they share a cheesecake at the end, with their third glass of wine. Her lips are stained purple red and Harry is growing a little obsessed with watching her talk. 

It ends, too quickly if Harry has any say in it, but they split the bill and wait under the restaurant awning for Veronica’s taxi. It’s slightly chilly now and Veronica wraps her arms around herself, tucking her hands in against her. 

“That was actually an enjoyable night, Harry Styles.” She grins and Harry tries to look affronted, but it’s mostly pleased.

“I’ve been told I can be alright when I’m not threatening CEOs,” Harry nods, getting jostled closer to Veronica when a group leaving the restaurant bumps into him. They’re nearly toe to toe now and from this angle Harry has to bend his neck down to look at her face. She shivers against the breeze.

“So modest,” Veronica chides and if she looks up from where she’s toying with the zip of her jacket, there’ll be inches between their faces. She does, look up that is, and it’s a little less than a few inches between them. “I have to warn you, I don’t kiss on first dates.”

“I thought this wasn’t a date,” Harry says, the cherry scent of her chewing gum wafting into his senses. 

“It’s not,” she agrees and leans up to kiss him. 

Harry’s pretty sure he probably still tastes like chicken and the chocolate cookie base of their cheesecake and in a few hours he’ll be on a bus across country, and then a few more buses and a plane across the Atlantic ocean. It’s a terrible idea but it’s hard to care when she slides a hand around his neck and he curls a hand around her hip and her lips are soft, plush, her tongue slipping against his. 

The taxi pulls up and she leaves with a final peck, one last wave through the window before she’s gone.

-

 

Harry tours and tours and goes home and sleeps and there’s texts in between, ridiculous things he’s seen on the road and silly videos of Lux dancing along to Yo Gabba Gabba. Veronica replies to most of them with smiley emoticons and random quotes and one awful time there was a blurred shot of her, just the bottom half of her face, hair damp from the shower and a droplet or two of water slipping down her collarbone. Harry sent seven fire emojis back.

It’s been rain and wind all day and although Harry loves being at home, he’s never dealt well with the cold. The heating’s been on full blast all day and he’s still in two shirts, not used to the thermostat settings in his new house. He’s scavenging for more blankets when a text comes through. When he notices her name, he scrambles for it, nearly knocking it off the kitchen counter.

The picture’s blurred like it’s been taken in a rush, just the outline of a street and a few houses visible. It’s dark and dreary, as if it’s been raining. The only thing Veronica’s sent along with it is, ‘ _England’s cold :( x_ ’. It takes exactly half a second for him to ring her.

“Hello?” she answers, the memory of her voice like a punch in the chest and her teeth chatter a little, like she’s shivering.

“Hi. Hiya,” Harry says, grips the edge of the counter to keep himself steady. “You’re in England?”

“Yeah, I uhm. Visiting family but--”

“Oh, oh okay.” There’s the slightest edge of disappointment worming it’s way into the pit of Harry’s stomach and he doesn’t even want to begin to think why. “That’s cool, was maybe going to see if you were free anytime for dinner. Lunch, breakfast, whatever.”

“I’m actually,” Veronica pauses and the sound of wind in the background picks up. Harry’s never heard her sound quite so flustered, usually calm and collected and he likes it. There’s not much he doesn’t like, to be honest. “I’m actually outside. Your house, I mean.”

Whatever anyone says he doesn’t run, he _speedwalks_ to the door and pulls it open after fumbling with the latch three times more than necessary. She’s drenched, hair dripping and curling against her face, eyeliner smudged under her eyes and Harry’s pretty sure her clothes weren’t meant to be that skin tight. But she’s gorgeous, still unbearably gorgeous and Harry doesn’t know if he can breathe right now.

“Hello,” she says, smiling, shivering, phone still held in her hand, “You gunna keep staring ‘til I get hypothermia?”

“No,” Harry answers, dumbly. Veronica pushes past him anyway and it pulls Harry back from whatever world he was in, mouth agape with his phone still pressed to his ear.

The wind howls angrily as he slams the door shut, the house falling silent, and when he follows the puddle trail into the kitchen, Veronica’s standing there looking slightly sheepish.

“How did you find me?” Harry asks, to stop himself from asking for her hand in marriage, probably.

“Liam,” she says simply.

“I thought you deleted his number.” Harry’s not huffing, but he is.

“I did,” she says in a tone that means ‘ but I didn’t do it for you’. “Marcel didn’t though.”

“Cheeky,” Harry drawls before he can stop himself but Veronica just rolls her eyes, grinning. She shivers again and Harry nearly smacks himself in the face. “I’ll, uh, get you a towel,” He offers, trying not to stare as she peels her t-shirt away from where it’s stuck to her stomach. “Bathroom’s upstairs, bedroom’s next to it, just take anything that’ll fit.”

“Thanks, Harry. Sorry I turned up with literally no notice.” Veronica looks the tiniest bit shy and Harry wants to kiss her. Again. He hasn’t forgotten he had the chance to do that before.

“It’s fine, it was a good surprise,” Harry says and she smiles on her way past him, grateful, but it doesn’t stop her from flicking her hair over her shoulder and sending a cascade of droplets over Harry’s face. Her following giggle echoes through the house and Harry thinks it sounds quite lovely, adds something to the place.

-

He’s making coffee when Veronica emerges from the hallway. The kettle’s just clicked off, he has a spoon in the coffee jar and he’ll probably remember this moment forever. Veronica’s hair’s still damp, curling down her back and she’s wearing Harry’s biggest jumper-- It even hangs down over his hands—stretched over her shoulder, and stopping mid-thigh. Harry drops the spoon in the coffee jar.

“Hope it’s okay I took this,” Veronica says, pulling herself up onto the stool at the breakfast bar, crossing her legs. “Didn’t want to wear anything too expensive.”

“It’s fine,” Harry says, focusing on the spoon and the coffee because, in reality, it’s everything but fine. It’s excruciating, if anything.

“Left my bra on the radiator, hope that’s okay too,” she continues. Spoon, coffee, hot water. Milk. Sugar.

“That’s fine.”

“Couldn’t find anything but jeans though so I’m just wearing my underwear.” Harry wishes he had selective hearing. 

“Mhm,” he manages and Veronica lets out a loud sigh.

“Harry, I don’t know if you noticed, but there’s a half-naked woman in your kitchen who flew 11 hours to seduce you.”

Harry pauses, spins around, spoon clattering on the counter and manages, “What?” and then another, “wait—What?”

“Well, that’s only half true, I _was_ visiting family in Bradford.” Harry thinks this must be some big conspiracy going on, maybe she really is related to Zayn, maybe it’s some awful big prank. He can’t really focus on that right now, though, the jumper’s ridden up on her thighs and he can see the faint outline of ink poking out from under the hem. He takes a step towards her. “But I am seducing you, thought I’d kill two birds with one stone.”

“That sounds awfully romantic,” Harry comments, taking another step towards her. He feels a little more at ease now that they’re on equal footing—both wanting to be seduced. Naked. Touching. He stifles a groan.

“Mm,” she hums and Harry’s right in front of her now. She uncrosses her legs, spreading them so Harry can fit in the gap and he takes his place without an inkling of a fight, sliding his hands up her thighs. Her skin’s warm to the touch and unbearably smooth. “Don’t know what it is about you, Harry Styles, but you do leave a girl thinking about you.”

“I’ve been practicing hypnosis for a long time.”

“Please don’t ruin the moment,” Veronica groans, pulling a face and Harry tries to look apologetic, whispering a ‘sorry’ as he thumbs at the insides of her thighs, leaning down.

Harry’s not that much taller than her, but buried in his massive jumper and sat on the bar stool he can practically bend over her, gather her up in his arms as he presses their lips together. It’s just as good as he remembers, better now there’s not an impending cut off point and they’re somewhere more private. 

The first kiss is short, soft, Harry’s hand cupping the back of Veronica’s neck and the other still on her thigh, thumb rubbing slow circles but when he pulls back Veronica doesn’t even let him get one breath out before tugging him back down, hooking her ankles behind his legs. Harry doesn’t kiss her slow and sweet, Veronica doesn’t give him a chance before she’s nipping at his lip, tugging at it, fisting her fingers in the collar of his shirt. 

“I saw your bed upstairs,” she says, basically pants when he gets an inch between their mouths although it doesn’t last for long as he presses a kiss to her jaw, her neck, nosing at her collarbone. “Looks big, comfy, lots of room for movement.” 

Harry huffs out a laugh, forehead pressed against the curve of her neck as he trails his fingers up the inside of her thigh, up under the hem of the jumper, lets the tip of two fingers follow the line of her panties.

“S’pretty big. Sturdy,” he comments, presses down harder as her breath hitches and her thighs clench down against his hips. With his lips on her neck, he cups her pussy, it’s warm and the material of her knickers is damp already and he’s can’t blame her, he’s so fucking turned on he could cry. It feels like it’s been building up for weeks, now.

“Sturdy, huh? Might have to see that for myself.” Veronica’s voice is pretty steady but she’s pressing forward into Harry’s hand at the barely there pressure.

“You’re really wet,” Harry blurts out, a hint of awe in his voice and Veronica catches his eye, making a face with her hair still dripping water. Laughing, he shakes his head and Veronica giggles too, scrunches up her nose and pulls out a perfect smile and this will only end badly but Harry can’t even bring himself to think about stopping. “Okay, okay. Upstairs, bed testing.” 

There’s no time wasted by the time they get upstairs, as Harry-- ungraceful as ever-- trips over a discarded sock and falls straight into bed, nearly winding Veronica in the process. She’s laughing as he rights himself, steadying himself above her with a hand on either side of her head. She cups his jaw, pulling Harry down and she’s still laughing when she kisses him, chest shaking but Harry doesn’t stop, keeps her smile pressed against his. 

“11 hour flight for a near death experience,” she huffs, amazed. “Hard to believe this is what all the girls are falling over themselves for.” She giggles a little at her own joke and Harry pinches her side, nearly losing his balance, held up on one arm. 

“I’ll have you know it’s not a passionate night without an emergency call.” Harry brushes a stray strand of hair falling over Veronica’s face to the side, tucking it behind her ear. “How many people can say they’ve had an orgasm and an ambulance ride in the space of an hour?”

“You are truly God’s gift to women.” She snorts and Harry thinks they’ve probably done enough talking, though she’s stuck around for all this weirdness he can’t see it lasting much longer, he’s extremely lucky. Instead of pulling out his John Travolta impression, he kisses her, because he has priorities.

He doesn’t really know where to start. He wants to kiss her neck and her shoulder and kiss all the way down her stomach, spend extra time on the soft flesh of her thighs before he even gets the chance to taste her properly.

With his hand splayed over Veronica’s stomach he rucks her, _his_ , jumper up and she pushes back into the touch. Harry wishes he could take his time, watch Veronica’s face and catalogue every little twitch and sigh but she’s making these tiny, frustrated noises when Harry ghosts a thumb over her taut nipple, digging her fingers into Harry’s shoulders to pull him down, crush their mouths together.

Propping himself up over Veronica on his elbow, Harry trails his other hand down, over the flatness of her stomach, over the jut of her hipbone until his fingers are tucked under the elastic of her knickers. 

“Please.” She whispers, almost whines. Harry likes her flustered. Likes her sarcastic and tired and dripping wet on his front doorstep, too. But flustered is good, her cheeks dusted pink and her hair spread out on his pillows, lips kiss-bitten red. 

Harry drops to her side, kisses Veronica again as she spreads her legs further and Harry dips his finger into the folds of her cunt, feels how wet and warm and fucking enticing it is. Even biting his lip won’t hold back his groan and the way his hips jolt. He’s already ridiculously hard, has been since he got his hands on Veronica, it’s pressing up against the tight material of his jeans and making it hard to focus. Veronica makes it difficult to focus on anything but her just by being in a room, anyway. 

Harry slips one finger in, two fingers and crooks them, rubs his thumb against Veronica’s clit, slowly fucking her as there’s not much else he can do with his hand still trapped by the material of her knickers. Veronica seems to get it, makes another frustrated noise when it just isn’t enough and fumbles about, pulling her knickers off with Harry still two fingers deep inside of her and ripping her jumper off next. It’s near hilarious the way she flops back down, fully unclothed with a happy sigh and Harry can’t help but laugh.

“Ridiculous,” Harry says, shaking his head and Veronica bats her eyelashes, leaning up to kiss Harry. 

She’s stunning, all laid out for him. Golden from tip to toe, pert breasts with dark, hardened nipples, her skin goose pimpled and tattoos he’ll have to investigate later, when he can stop his head spinning.

“You’re wearing too many clothes,” she scolds, tugging at his shirt and Harry noses at her neck, bites down. “Wanna blow you.” 

“Later,” Harry groans. Her thigh is pressed against the thick line of his cock and it’s with all the willpower he can muster that he doesn’t just rub one off right there. “First, I wanna make you come,” Harry crooks his fingers again, bearing the heel of his palm down against her clit, ruthless, starting up a faster pace that has Veronica biting her lip, clutching at his arm. “Then I wanna fuck you, make you come again.” 

“Good itinerary,” Veronica tries to joke but it’s cut off with a gasp, rolling her hips against Harry’s hand. “If you’re not gonna let me blow you then I get to at least ride you, okay?” 

He knows he’s not going to last long after that but Veronica beats him to it, thighs shaking and tightening around Harry’s hand as she comes with a silent gasp, head thrown back and absolutely fucking gorgeous. 

Ready to give her a little time to recover, Harry pulls his fingers out, kisses along her shoulder but she’s flipping them over already, climbing on top of him and pulling at his shirt, pushing it down his arms. 

“Fuck, Harry.” She groans, flinging the shirt somewhere across the room and going for his jeans next, fumbling with the zipper. It’s probably on purpose, the way her hands brush against the outline of his dick, pressed hard against the material and Harry groans, batting her hands away to do it instead. 

It’s almost too much, being pressed skin to skin with her when Harry finally fumbles his boxers off. Harry’s sitting up, Veronica settled in his lap and she’s rocking her hips as she kisses him, fucks her tongue into his mouth, Harry’s dick caught between the lips of her cunt, getting her slick all over him. 

“C’mon, V,” Harry moans, Veronica’s tits pressed against his chest and his fingers kneading at the soft flesh of her bum, keeping her close. “Gunna finish if you keep doing that.” 

She giggles, breathless, bites once at his jaw, before pushing him down with a hand on his chest, laying him flat on his back on the bed. Reaching over to his bedside drawers, he grabs a condom and tears it open, rolling it on, taking a few a tries, his fingers still slippery with wet. 

It’s obscene the way she looks, feels even better when she finally gets a hand on his dick, squeezing the base as she starts to lower herself onto him.

“Fuck,” she almost whimpers, just as the head of his dick presses inside of her and Harry’s fingers tighten where they’re holding her hips. “You’re big.” 

He’d probably make a joke if he could even breathe, her warmth and wet engulfing him as he slides further in, until she’s fully seated in his lap. He manages a glance down and regrets it immediately, the sight of her soaked, swollen cunt, stretched over him pulling him that bit closer to the teetering edge of no return. 

She takes a moment to get used to it, rocking her hips gently with her head thrown back, hands splayed across Harry’s chest. Trying so, so hard to keep his hips still he lasts for a good few seconds before he can’t stop himself threading his fingers through the hair at the base of her neck, pulling her down to crush their mouths together.

With a sweet, sweet moan she fucks her hips faster, harder, planting a hand either side of Harry’s head to keep her balance. Her hair’s still damp, falling around her head like a curtain keeping them enclosed in this private moment as she leaves her forehead pressed against his, working her hips, every slide spiking white hot arousal in the pit of his stomach. 

“So good, can’t believe it. Fucking yourself so good on my dick-- It’s--” Harry cuts off as she clenches around him, wrapping his arms around her to pull her tight against him, until they’re pressed together completely. It makes it hard for her to move her hips properly, then, but Harry needs her this close, needs her tits rubbing against his chest and her breath fanning over his face as she pants with every thrust. 

“Fuck, _fuck_.” She practically sobs and Harry’s grip tightens on her.

Planting his feet flat on the bed, bending his knees, he starts to meet her thrusts, dicking into her as hard and fast as he can. Although Veronica was quiet before, showing more with her fingers dug into Harry’s flesh and the jolts of her hips, now her breath’s hitching every time their hips meet with a slap of sweat dampened skin. 

“Harry,” she lets out on the next breath and he manages to turn his head to kiss her slack mouth as he fucks her. 

“Close-- So close. Fuck.” Harry groans against her mouth and she works her hips harder as he gets a hand between them, thumbing over her nipple and rolling it between his fingers. She moans, hips stuttering. 

“Same, same.” She gasps, thighs trembling. She drops down onto her elbow, buries her head in the crook of Harry’s neck as she uses her other hand to rub at her clit in quick hard circles. “Come for me, babe. C’mon.” 

It’s not long, her grinding down on Harry and Harry trying his best to fuck up into her before he’s coming so hard he can feel it from the top of his head to the tips of his toes, curling in on himself as Veronica shudders, biting back a whine when she follows, pussy clenching tight around Harry’s dick. 

\--

Later, Harry wraps them both up in a blanket, stumbling through the house together, his arms around her waist and pressed up against Veronica’s back, refusing to let her go even when she shouts with protest as they nearly go careening headfirst down the stairs. Harry’s in nothing but his boxers and Veronica’s only just pulled his jumper back on so it’s freezing when they get outside, although the rain’s finally stopped. He lets her light her cigarette before he plops down on one of the garden chairs, pulling her down with him.

“You don’t mind the--” She trails off, waving her cigarette in the air.

“No, it’s fine,” Harry answers, his nose is tucked into her hair and all he can really smell is her. 

Veronica takes a deep pull, circles her mouth and blows smoke rings and Harry watches as they get whisked away by the wind.

“So,” Harry says.

“So,” Veronica mimics in an awful attempt at Harry’s slow drawl, tapping her cigarette to get rid of the ash.

“Would you like to stay for breakfast?” he asks, always polite. It’s only 8pm. 

“Breakfast, Brunch, Lunch, Dinner,” she says and Harry tightens his arms around her, tucks his face against the back of her neck and waits for her to finish.

**Author's Note:**

> Tumblr post [here](http://wearecities.tumblr.com/post/81501722095/so-hold-your-tongue-and-hear-me-out-harry) if you wish.


End file.
